Of Who We Are and What We've Become
by Pickles the Great
Summary: “It’s probably because I’m attracted to fire.” Lieutenant Hawkeye said. Perhaps she was done lying for the sake of loyalty. Kind of angsty, Royai.


Just wrote this today. Angst means anxiety in German. Ever seen Lola Rennt? Great movie. Funny.

&

The fire in front of them crackled viciously, openly declaring its danger to those surrounding it.

_Don't come near me. I could hurt you, you know._

Riza tried her best to ignore the fire. The way the red glare reflected off her weapon and into her eyes, however, made that difficult. She just took the rag, and kept cleaning.

_I'm dangerous. These hands are dangerous. You should keep your distance._

Riza twitched. Every fire she had ever come in contact with had his voice. It was just a fact that she had given up trying to escape. The fire, however, received a silent answer.

_I've already played with fire. Keeping my distance now would be pointless._

She placed the rag down and set her rifle to the side. To her right, Breda was snoring loudly, almost drowning out the fire. Over on the other side of the fire, Kain was sleeping peacefully, a pistol resting in one hand and Black Hayate curled up at his side. She smiled. Whenever she was unable to have him with her, the first person he went to was always Kain. That was a good, safe place to be.

Silence washed over her peacefully. The fire had stopped speaking, and just contented with crackling around, it's reply quieting it. Riza took slow, steady breaths to keep herself from speaking. The only person awake at her side was staring into the fire, contemplating it without a word. The orange glow danced in his eyes, contained strictly in the small orbs of black. She turned back to her rifle. There was nothing to gain by talking. Words complicated things.

Riza took up the rag again and concentrated her fingers on a stubborn spot of dirt on the handle. She found she respected it more when it was clean. She considered taking apart the barrel and cleaning the mess from the inside, but in the dark and surrounded by sleeping men did not seem like the smartest place to clean a gun. So she settled for attacking a stain that sullied her protection.

After a while, the silence became more permanent. She assumed her last companion in consciousness had fallen asleep as well, though she didn't bother to look and check. Someone needed to stay awake, after all.

Besides, the shadows surrounding their makeshift camp prevented her from sleeping peacefully. Separated from the military and all outside connections, they were unaware of the situation concerning Ed and the homunculi. That probably kept her more nervous than anything. She wasn't used to being uninformed. She _did_ work with the Colonel; being in the loop came with the territory.

Shuffling in the distance caused her to tense. She found being estranged from the military created an uncomfortable, vulnerable part of her that she did not like. Her uniform always protected her. Now, however, she was just Riza. Not Lieutenant Hawkeye, but Riza. She didn't like Riza. Riza was a civilian. Riza was human.

Humans, as a general rule, were foolish and ignorant. Lieutenant Hawkeye wasn't human. Riza was.

She would give anything to be Lieutenant Hawkeye again.

Her weapon was set down again. She couldn't concentrate.

"Why?"

Riza closed her eyes. Lieutenant Hawkeye wouldn't have done so.

"You know the answer to that." She responded. She wasn't happy. Words complicated things. Words made her think. She didn't want to think. Thinking lead to second-guessing, and second-guessing was all it took to change everything. That was why Riza tried her best not to think.

"Don't assume I can read you as easily as you can read me. Why?"

The corners of her mouth lifted. Not a smile, but more of a twitch. "Who knows? Maybe I'm just taking responsibility for my actions. I stand by my decisions, after all."

He nodded. "If that was true, then why haven't you shot me yet? We're deserters, after all. Straying. That alone should be enough to earn me a shot in the back."

Riza chuckled. "You don't want to get shot."

Roy grunted. "Not yet, anyway. But when we do stand trial, I'd rather have you shoot me than a firing squad."

"Maybe I will." Riza mused. "But then I would be charged with the assassination of the president in addition to war crimes. I believe the last shooter to assume such a role was sentenced to death by stoning."

"Mmm." He confirmed. "But stoning was outlawed last year, remember?"

Riza nodded. Actually, she did not remember.

"I guess I'm just wondering why it was me," he said, voice low, "you chose for this. You had the power to choose the next flame alchemist," phrasing it like that made it sound much more important than it actually was, "and you picked me. Did you do it out of obligation?" He paused. It was obvious to Riza that was a thought he had been entertaining in his head for a while.

"I trusted you." She responded absently, gazing into the darkness. "I believed in your dream. I haven't given up hope yet."

Roy was silent. Riza knew why.

"I'll stay awake," he offered, "you should get some sleep."

She nodded. "I'll try."

As she rolled over into a comfortable position, not quite caring about the grass stains she'd wake up to in the morning, she smiled.

"It's probably because I'm attracted to fire." Lieutenant Hawkeye said.

&

Fever. 99.7. Getting some sleep before work.


End file.
